


Young and Reckless

by rainforestgeek



Series: Commissions [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Addams Family References, Creampie, Dancing, F/M, Halloween, Light Dom/sub, Post-Canon, Roleplay, Unprotected Sex, dominant lance, hints of pregnancy kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:07:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24312484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainforestgeek/pseuds/rainforestgeek
Summary: Pidge and Lance get carried away during Rizavi's engagement party.Commissioned by HorribleOClock
Relationships: Lance/Pidge | Katie Holt
Series: Commissions [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1673794
Comments: 6
Kudos: 58





	Young and Reckless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HorribleOClock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HorribleOClock/gifts).



Are they getting too old for parties like this?

Rizavi and her fiancée threw this party as an ostentatious engagement celebration, and the proposal just happened to be right next to Halloween. She completely transformed her house. The walls are draped with black material, glow-in-the-dark spider webs stretched taut in every corner, jack-o-lanterns on every surface, and all the food and drink look like arachnids or severed body parts. Pidge is certain she saw jelly eyeballs in the lemonade. Luckily, Hunk’s back on Earth at the moment so they got him to make most of it, thank God.

Pidge leans next to a skeleton with a horse head propped up against the wall, a dark red drink in her hand from a dispenser simply labelled _Blood_. She scans the room for Lance but she can’t find him among the guests and the pulsing lights. She pushes off the wall to stride back to the patio outside with all the grace she could muster. Pidge wants to truly embody the elegance of her character (but she won’t miss the sharp, blood-red acrylic nails tomorrow).

It’s a little quieter outside. The tipsy guests milling about are talking and laughing and eating, and shamelessly fishing for compliments about their costumes. Pidge instinctively ducks when a mechanical bat flies over her head, even though it’s several feet above her. Rizavi talked Pidge into building a small swarm for the party.

( _“Nadia, a group of bats is called a colony.”_

 _“I don’t care, I want a_ swarm _.”_ )

Hoping she’d find Lance out here, Pidge finds a snack table and casually sips the last of her scarlet vodka. She refills her cup and loads up a plate of witch’s fingers cookies, white cotton candy with black gummy spiders, eyeball mini sandwiches, and other snacks resembling creepy crawlies. Hunk and Rizavi’s girlfriend – now fiancée – made this food look freakishly realistic. It’s a wonder people eat this stuff. But then, Pidge couldn’t really judge as she munched on a pair of lips made of apple slices and peanut butter.

Pidge should have known _he’d_ find _her._

She feels him come up behind her and trace his hands down her arms, his body warming her back. “I almost didn’t recognize you, my Peach.”

A grin spreads across her face. “Is that what took you so long?”

Lance takes her right hand and chastely kisses it, then plants an eager trail of kisses up along her arm over the black lace of her flowing sleeves. He reaches her neck, gently gathering her long black wig in his hand to place a delicate kiss on her sensitive skin. Pidge’s eyes flutter shut, setting aside her food. He spins her around.

Lance is dressed in a dark, pinstriped suit, with a midnight-black tie and a silver pocket watch on a chain. He’s neatly combed and slicked back his hair. A moustache has been drawn on his upper lip. Pressing her blood-red nails to his chest, he leers at her in a way that makes her skin grow hot and tingle.

“Morticia. How long has it been since we’ve waltzed?” he asks playfully.

“Oh Gomez,” Pidge breathes (trying not to laugh), “hours.”

The both break into giggles at the old movie quotes. It was stupidly romantic and silly, and she’s already halfway through her second drink.

Lance leads her to the door. “Come inside and dance with me, my darling.”

‘My darling’ is a new endearment. Pidge’s blood heats and bubbles up into her cheeks. If his knowing smile means anything, he can see her turning pink, even in the dark. He presses another enthusiastic kiss to her hand and guides her into the house. She drains the rest of her drink, the vodka burning her throat as it goes down.

Leave it to Rizavi and her fiancée to buy a house with a room that is actually dedicated to parties. Pidge and Lance often call it a ballroom, much to their chagrin. But it’s a large room with a high ceiling, mood lighting, and a wide-open dance floor – and it can’t be a club because it’s not open for business, therefore: totally a ballroom.

The ballroom is packed with people dancing like maniacs. Top 40 songs blast from the speakers, glowing pumpkins occupy every flat surface, green fairy lights drape the walls, enormous spiders are perched on even more enormous glowing spiderwebs in every corner, and _everyone_ is in costume. Pidge thinks she sees Keith walk by dressed like a pirate, but she could be hallucinating.

Surrounded by so many bodies, Pidge is thankful for the light fabric of her dress. Lance pulls her body against his as if they’re about to tango. But she gently, coyly, pushes him away and starts moving her body to the heavy, wild music. Gracelessly, they both start dancing.

Dancing in a crowd is exhilarating. She ordinarily doesn’t like being surrounded like that but on a dancefloor, it lets you have some anonymity. Even terrible dancers just blend into the mass of moving limbs, so Pidge is letting loose and enjoying the feel of her body moving with the music. Lance is just as carefree and awkward across from her, his own movements resembling those of a baby giraffe.

They dance closer and closer to each other, meeting in the middle, his hands finding her waist and hers draping over his shoulders. Under the layers of fabric, she can feel thick, lean cords of muscle under her hands. Years of battle and training were good for Lance; he has really sexy shoulders.

Lance is holding her against his body now, both their movements becoming less spastic and more sensual. His hot breath smells like cider when it puffs against her face. His hips swivel against hers and they’re pressed so close together she can feel the lines of his suit through her dress.

At some point she loses her wig, but she doesn’t mourn the loss to her costume. She was getting too hot for it anyway. When Lance notices, he gently pulls out the elastics holding her hair up, letting her caramel waves tumble down around her neck.

He’s looking at her with darkened eyes, and she doesn’t think his pupils are blown because of the low light.

Pidge needs him. Now.

Before she knows what’s happening, Lance is pulling her face towards his. Her whole body buzzes with anticipation. Closer and closer, his lips hover just millimeters from her own, and she wants to devour him, but his hands on her cheeks keep her firmly in place. Tantalizing seconds pass in which he doesn’t kiss her.

Then Lance takes her hand, twirls her, and spins her back in, so her back is pressed against his chest. His arms are wrapped around her again and she feels dizzy from the sudden change. Maybe the alcohol is getting to her.

He sways her back and forth, grinding their hips together. She feels his hard-on pressing into her ass. Heat pools in her pussy and it starts to get wet. His cock gets even harder when she starts to roll more aggressively into the motion. He groans into her ear. Her head spins again when he sweeps her off her feet. Literally, this time. Lance is carrying her bridal-style out of the ballroom, moving as fast as he could, heedless of the other party-goers. She nibbles on his neck as he takes her into the hall and up the stairs.

“Did you _want_ me to fuck you in the middle of the dance floor?” he growled, finding a guest room and kicking the door shut. He put her down and pushed her against the door, making the latch rattle. He drops to his knees and reaches up her long, flowing skirt.

“I bet you would’ve let me. Just find a shady corner, pull aside your panties and take you against the wall, right in front of all our friends.” Lance pulls the hem up while Pidge tries to keep her bearings. His hands pause when he reaches the top of her thighs. “God, that is so much hotter.”

Lance yanks the red boxer briefs she’s wearing down to her ankles, and she stumbled out of them. There’s a dark spot on the crotch from her wet pussy. The couple are a tangle of black clothes and flushed skin, his hands lifting her thighs and her thighs wrapping around his hips and his hips rolling into her body. Soon enough he gets his dick out and slides inside her.

Pidge moans and slams her head against the door. His cock his hot inside her and it stretches her open. He closes what little space is still between them and kisses her.

“Gotta be quiet,” he murmurs against her lips. “I don’t think Nadia would appreciate hearing us defile her house.”

She squirms against his rocking hips, trying to get him to move. “Everyone’s downstairs getting their eardrums blasted out. Why don’t you make me be quiet?”

Lance’s smirk is downright dangerous. “You know what? I will.” He retreats and stuffs her full again, sealing their mouths together to swallow every noise she makes. His movements are quick and frantic and he barely lets her breathe with his tongue in her mouth. The friction of his cock against her slick walls sets her on fire.

Pidge gasps for air when he breaks their kiss, moving on to her jaw. He nips at her earlobe while his hard thrusts move her up and down the door. Her eyes flutter shut. She reaches around his back, gripping the fabric of his suit jacket tight. He can’t stay fully dressed for too long, she thinks idly. They’re both starting to sweat. Already the lace sleeves of her dress are rubbing her overheated skin the wrong way. Against all logic and comfort, he keeps going, and she can’t even protest because he keeps kissing her again, biting her lips and sliding their tongues together, stealing her breath.

When he slides his mouth down her neck, Pidge catches enough air to pant out, “Naked. Bed. Please.”

“What’s the magic word?”

She knows that this was reckless. They’re at a friend’s house – a friend’s _engagement party_ – impulsively fucking like animals in heat, in a random guest room with no lock on the door. She’s dizzy from the alcohol and breathing his carbon dioxide. “I want you to pin me down and take me!”

Lance groans, then braces her weight with his arms under her butt and pulls her away from the wall. Pidge stays impaled on his cock, her body held in place by only his grip and her legs squeezing around his waist, her boxer briefs still hanging off one foot. “Not quite what I was looking for but that’s music to my ears.” He sets her down on her feet and backs her up toward the bed, stripping off his tie, suit jacket, and dress shirt as he advances on her. His wet cock is hanging out of his unzipped pants, bouncing with each step he takes; she notices he went commando tonight. The backs of Pidge’s legs hit the bed, forcing her to sit down. His bobbing cock is near her eye level. The tip is leaking precum.

“Don’t just stare at it Pidge. Why don’t you take off that dress for me?”

As Lance kicks off his shoes, Pidge wrestles with the zipper and clasp at her back. She manages to unzip the dress and she scoots out of it, backward on the bed. Her shoes are still on her feet and her underwear still caught around her ankle.

Now fully naked, Lance prowls toward her, sliding the boxers off her foot, and pins her down under his body, miles of exposed skin pressed against her own. Then he’s spreading her legs and fucking into her again, this time with no tangled skirts or awkward angles impeding the way. She keens, arching her back up and gripping the pillows, with her thighs instinctively clenching around his hips. He starts to move again, at a harder, faster pace than he could do against the door.

Long fingers wrap around her wrists and pin them to the mattress. Pidge can’t move anything except her legs, and even those are beginning to turn to trembling jelly. The cock stuffing her full strokes her G-spot with every blissful pass. The head keeps hitting that deep spot that makes her writhe with pleasure, undulating against his body, and she swears she feels it kiss her cervix a few times. She tries to hook her ankles behind Lance’s ass, but their sweat-slicked skin makes it hard to get a hold. Eventually, she just lets her feet drop to the mattress and relinquishes herself to the sensations, her eyes sliding closed in pleasure. Lance is in complete control. He drives into her dripping pussy relentlessly. The sound of his panting mixes with hers and his hot breath spills over her neck. The loud music downstairs vibrates up through the house; she can hear the drums and base and almost feel it in her chest, out of time with Lance’s thrusts. They must have a fantastic sound system here.

Lance tries to give her a long kiss but they’re both too out of breath. Instead, he pecks her lips over and over again, sweet little sloppy kisses that turn her brain to mush. His pelvis is rubbing against her clit as he moves. The friction sends sparks up her spine and makes her arousal curl tighter and tighter in her belly, the tension of her orgasm just on the edge of springing free.

Pidge comes with a cry against Lance’s lips. She clamps around his cock, hips rolling up into his, sending her toes and fingertips tingling deliciously. Lance slows then stops his movements, staying buried deep inside her, while she rides out her orgasm.

When her wriggling slows to a halt, Lance picks up the pace again. He shifts position so he’s more securely propped up on his knees and releases her wrists so he can lift her butt up and hold her there while he fucks her brains out. The position gently bumps her sensitive clit with each thrust, overstimulating her and pushing undignified squeaks out of her mouth, and she’s helpless to pull away for some relief. His head drops to her breasts and he starts licking and sucking her nipples, intensifying the electricity in her spine from just having come. Pidge uses her newly freed hands to clutch Lance’s mess of brown hair, carding her fingers through the soft locks, while he laves her chest with his tongue.

The pleasure is threatening to edge into pain when she comes again, minutes after her first orgasm. Her nervous system shorts out and all she knows is Lance slams inside her one last time and moans against her skin. He shoots hot cum inside her, filling up her pussy, and they come down from their high together.

Lance pulls out, and Pidge stretches her whole body like a cat. She feels all warm and cozy, so she rolls to her side to press herself against Lance.

“Crap, Pidge.” He nudges her.

She bats his hand away. She’s sleepy and contented and dammit, she just got laid at a party, she deserves some afterglow.

“Pidge, seriously!”

“What?” She opens one eye to peer at Lance. He has the most dramatic worried expression on his face that she’s ever seen. “Lance, you look like you’ve seen an actual ghost.”

“ _We didn’t use a condom._ ”

Her mouth falls open. They stare at each other with mirrored _oh, fuck_ expressions for several moments.

Pidge breaks first. She snorts, then breaks down laughing. “Sorry, I just can’t pretend to be mad about that.”

“Aw, and you stayed in-character for so long,” Lance huffs. But he’s grinning back at her.

“That was fun. I felt like I was eighteen again,” Pidge said, stretching languidly next to him.

“Back when you were so overcome with lust every time you saw me that we fucked in all of our friends’ bathrooms.”

“I was _not_ that bad.”

Lance buries his face in her hair. “Denial’s not a good look on you, Peach. When we started having sex, my dick barely had time to dry before you jumped me again.” His breath tickles her neck, making her squirm.

“I wasn’t worse than _you_. You couldn’t see me wear a short-sleeved t-shirt without getting turned on.” They go silent for a bit, breathing in each other’s scent and dozing lightly. Eventually, Pidge speaks up again. “Do you ever miss that?”

“Miss what?” He mumbles.

“When we couldn’t keep our hands off each other and got carried away all the time?”

“Not particularly. I like having more self-control now. But,” Lance presses a soft kiss to her skin, “if you ever wanna roleplay as helpless horndogs again, just say the word.”

“I might just take you up on that,” she murmurs, before sliding into unconsciousness, nuzzled into his warmth.

Pidge jerks awake at the sound of the door banging open. In the doorway, Nadia Rizavi glares down at them with the biggest shit-eating smirk. “You two are so lucky you fell into the guest room instead of _my_ bedroom ‘cause I would’ve thrown you out on your naked asses last night.”

“Ah damn,” Lance snaps his fingers sarcastically. “That would’ve just completed the fantasy, right, Pidge?”

Pidge tugs him back into a lying down position and covers them both with the blankets. Unless they’re at the beach or something (a trip Pidge tends to opt out of anyway), she’s never been keen on other women getting an eyeful of her husband’s body, not even her oldest friends. No, she’s not _jealous_. But possessive? Hell yes. There’s a difference.

Rizavi cocks a hip and leans against the door frame. “I get you’re trying to fuck a baby into her McClain, but you didn’t have to do it under my roof.” She was still smirking.

Pidge grabs a pillow and chucks it at her. “Get _out_ , Nadia!”

“Did it at least work?”

“Out!”

Cackling, Nadia slides out and shuts the door behind her. But they hear one last yell through the door: “Put the sheets in the washer for me!”

Lance grins brightly at his wife, wrapping an arm around her waist and snuggling closer. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Do _you_ think it worked?”

She bops him on the nose with a gentle finger and it makes his eyes crinkle. “You know I don’t know that. I’ll take a test in a couple weeks.”

“Mmmm. I have a good feeling about last night though.”

“Of course you do, sharpshooter.”

Lance rolls her on top of him to press his half-hard dick against her hip. His hand is hot on her back. “How ‘bout I take another shot right now? Before we gotta strip the bed.”

“Your moustache is all smudged now.”

“That’s not a no.”

“Come here and get that permanent marker on my face.”


End file.
